This English version of a paper written for a senior seminar of
American Studies at Duisburg University in Germany, titled "2001: A Space
Odyssey; The Voyage Motif as a Symbol of Man's Course of Life and
Development as depicted in Stanley Kubrick's Science-Fiction Film from
1968", was originally written in German because most of the material used
was also in German. However, some of the books I referred to were German
publications (i.e. translations) of English-language texts, which were
hard, sometimes impossible to trace for this English version of my paper.
So please forgive me if the wordings of some quotations are not entirely
congruent with the quotations you'd find in the books about '2001' on your
shelf.

Introduction: The Aim of This Essay

Why does the idea of traveling bear so much fascination? Why are more
and more people going on vacation to more and more exotic places every
year -- be it a cruise on a luxury liner, an adventurous excursion through
the jungle, a pilgrimage, or a study trip? In literature, there is
hardly any motif that is more complex and faceted than that of the
voyage:

"Voyages of heroes symbolize the journey over the ocean of
life, the overcoming of its hardships, and the achievement of completion;
they are also symbols of transformation; of the quest for paradise lost;
of initiation; of going through difficulties and dangers while striving
for completion and cognition; of probation of character; of the transition
from darkness to light, from death to immortality; of finding one's
spiritual center. Such voyages are the adventures of Herakles, the
Argonauts, Odysseus, Theseus, the Knights of the Round Table etc."
(1)

With his science fiction film 2001: A Space Odyssey from 1968,
Stanley Kubrick took up the classical example of the voyage-motif
and put it into the modern context of space travel. In the course of this
paper, 2001 shall be analyzed with regard to its depiction of
The Voyage as a symbol of Man's course of life or development,
respectively.

The overall aim is to find an explanation for the ongoing fascination
with the theme of traveling (both in fact and fiction), which -- as is
argued here -- is closely linked to the phenomenon that, even after almost
30 years, Stanley Kubrick's science fiction film has not lost any of its
"charm."

Some Preliminary Thoughts

There are not too many films that have been received by public and
critics as antagonistically as 2001. Review interpretations of what
it is about ranged "from optimistic rebirth to a deterministic view of
human history" (2), the latter of which most of all
criticized "the fate-like being-ruled-from-above of Man" and "a
salvation-mysticism that condemned to passivity and inertia." (3)

The main reason for these many diverging opinions of 2001 is
that Kubrick uses a film language which breaks up all conventional
patterns of storytelling. Even for a science fiction film -- and if there is
one genre of which one would almost expet "revolutionary visions,
it is science fiction -- 2001 was and is so unconventional that
some critics stated: "this isn't a normal science fiction movie at all."
(4)

The nonverbal plot and the elliptic structure of 2001,
especially, represent a radical breach with conventions of filming and
perceiving (= "watching") a film. Out of 140 min. of plot, less than 40
min. contain dialog, and the strings of action are not linked in a
linear-causal way but have to be connected through visual association. (5) The most memorable example is the drastic cut from the
bone thrown into the air to the bone-shaped space vessel circling in
orbit. But also the connections between the other main parts of the film
(and, furthermore, between sequences in them) are not made through
explanatory transitions but through a montage-like arrangement. Kubrick
forces the viewers to free themselves from conventional, verbally defined
perception; to open up to "non-language," multilayered perception; and to
"fill the gaps" on a highly personal, subjective level. In his own words:

2001 is a nonverbal experience; one that bypasses
verbalized pigeonholing and directly penetrates the subconscious with an
emotional and philosophical content. To convolute McLuhan, in 2001
the message is the medium. I intended the film to be an intensely
subjective experience that reaches the viewer at an inner level of
consciousness [...]. You're free to speculate as you wish about the
philosophical and allegorical meaning of the film -- and such speculation
is one indication that it has succeeded in gripping the audience at a deep
level -- but I don't want to spell out a verbal road map for 2001 that
every viewer will feel obliged to pursue or else fear he's missed the
point. (6)

The effect of such an approach can best be observed through a
comparison with the novel of the same title, which Arthur C. Clarke (7) wrote simultaneously with the screen play that he and
Kubrick wrote together. To many questions that Kubrick deliberately leaves
unanswered (From where does the monolith come? To where does it disappear?
Why does HAL kill the crew? What is the meaning of the Louis-seize
room (8)? What do we have to expect from the returning
Starchild?), Clarke gives us an answer -- precisely one answer.
Hence, the novel meets the expectations toward a conventional,
linear-causal narration. It "guides" the reader through the plot and
assures him/her in his/her traditional attitude of passively receiving the
strings of a "plot." At the same time, it loses a lot of just that
symbolic and mystic ambiguity which makes the film a work of art. Most
prominent example here is the black monolith: Clarke minutely describes
its qualities and functions (e.g. artifact of an extraterrestrial
intelligence [Clarke a) 70], cosmic fire alarm (9),
teaching device [Clarke a) 22], or Star Gate [Clarke a) 195] to "higher
dimensions").

Kubrick, on the other hand, "leaves the viewer standing in front of the
monolith as clueless as the ape-men" [Nelson 146] (and later on as the
astronauts) and only defines it via its appearance and via an
uncanny-sounding choir of voices. Consequently, in the film the monolith
remains undefined and can stand for several things at the same time, even
for something that lies beyond words, whereas Clarke (to define is
to limit! (10)) reduces it to "one function at a time"
and does not challenge the reader to find further meanings on his/her own.
Hence, the film 2001, as Nelson describes, is "organized in a way
which combines a minimum of verbal clarity with a maximum of visual
ambiguity." [Nelson 146] For the novel this statement has to be reversed
to "a maximum of verbal clarity and a minimum of visual ambiguity."
Nevertheless the novel will be drawn upon on occasion in this essay;
partly as a contrast, to show the visual complexity of the film, partly as
a source of interpretations that are only implied indirectly in the film.

A logical consequence of this "visual ambiguity" is the immense width
of differing interpretations of 2001. Differing in quality and
quantity -- and depending on the respective author's inclination -- it has
been seen in the light of Biblical, Freudian, Jungian or uterine (11) symbolism. But all of these views can only be highly
subjective reflections, as well as this essay can only be a(nother)
personal approach. So bear with me as I describe my own interpretation of
the 'meaning(s)' of 2001.

Analysis of the Film 2001

The opening credit already confronts us with an important sequence: a
wide camera shot "up" from Moon (which glides "down" and out of the frame)
to Earth and brightly shining Sun, "commented" by Richard Strauss'
Also sprach Zarathustra. The symbolic importance of this sequence
will only be fully revealed at the end of the second part of the plot; the
Zarathustra-melody will receive its motif function midway through part one.

Part 1 / Dawn of Man

The first scenes describe the circumstances of living of a tribe of Man
apes in the Pleistocene African veldt. In poor vegetation they are
rivaling with tapirs and other Man ape tribes about the few brushes and
one waterhole. Leopard attacks are a constant threat to all their lives.
Clarke describes this situation as Road to Extinction [Clarke a)
11] since there does not seem to be a way out of their misery. Geduld
calls this paradoxical setting a corrupted Genesis [Geduld 36f] as
the Man apes are scraping their bare living (or rather, existence) as
herbivores in a Garden of Eden full of carnal food.

The situation changes when one morning, all of a sudden, a black slab
is standing in front of their cave. An uncanny choir of voices
(Requiem for Soprano, Mezzo-Soprano, 2 Mixed choirs and Orchestra,
composed by György Ligeti), which seems to be emitted from it, announces
its presence even before we see it on screen. Very carefully, the primates
approach and try to touch it. The polysemantic qualities of the monolith
have been mentioned before. In this situation, Geduld [41] sees it as a
religious symbol -- due to the apes' reverent posture. It does indeed
remind us of Michelangelo's Creation of Adam, with the monolith
taking the position of the Creator and the apes, pointing their fingers,
representing newly born Man. This constellation will be repeated twice
during the film 1) when Floyd touches the "Tycho Monolith" on the Moon;
and 2) when Bowman reaches out to the monolith at the foot of his bed in
the Louis-seize room-with the gesture appearing more and more
"ritualized" and abstracted (so as to give us a "hint from above"?).

The "voices" could also be interpreted as an "attempt at communication"
made by a higher developed and thus divine-seeming (extraterrestrial?)
consciousness, which has rid itself of any physical manifestation and uses
the monolith as a medium. We can find such a speculation -- concerning ETs
-- in the novel, "...that mind would eventually free itself from matter
[...] to something which, long ago, Man had called 'spirit.' An if there
was anything beyond that, its name could only be God." [Clarke a) chapter
32; 171-176] However, Geduld neglects the importance of the magical
alignment, as Kubrick calls it [Geduld 35], in this scene: a shot from
the foot of the monolith up to Sun and Moon above refers the attentive
viewer back to the alignment of the opening credit and foretells the first
"goal" in the course of Man's development: the Tycho Crater.

The Monolith disappears as mysteriously as it has come. However, it
must have had a decisive influence, as is documented through a short
intercut of the magical alignment at the beginning of the now-following
"bone-smashing sequence." [Geduld 41] While searching for food, one of the
primates, whom Clarke introduces as Moonwatcher [Clarke a) 11] (an early
hint at the "way" evolution will take), has an idea: he begins to play
with the bones that are lying around. His "playing" is gaining in passion
the more he is hitting the skeleton with a large thigh bone. He finally
smashes the skull with a widely-swung stroke and triumphantly throws the
bone into the air. Kubrick contrapuntally highlights this scene: the more
vehemently Moonwatcher hits the skeleton, the more clearly it is
documented through slow motion. Short intercuts of a falling tapir explain
the symbolic importance of Moonwatcher's deed: it "dawns" on him that he
can use the bones as weapons, to fight his rivals and to hunt his loot.

The scene is (literally) underscored by Richard Strauss' Also sprach
Zarathustra, which we heard during the opening titles. Simultaneously
with Moonwatcher's growing confidence and skills in handling the bones,
the melody develops, growing from dark (African?) drums to the clear and
bright sounds of triumphant fanfares and thus receives its function as a
motif for the evolution of Man. (12) A cynical
combination which seems to suggest that only an act of violence will lead
the way to the "Superman" announced by Nietzsche (13);
that development is only possible through aggression; that "Evolution"
must be preceded by a "Re-volution." With the Zarathustra-motif Kubrick
underlines his call to the audience to free themselves from a verbally
defined form of perception and to sharpen their associating skills in
accordance with the musical background.

If we follow Geduld's idea of the corrupted Genesis, the
monolith becomes not a Tree but a Stone of Knowledge, which
simultaneously catalyzes Man's Rise (above the rest of Creation -- also
signified by the erect posture of a Homo sapiens that Moonwatcher's tribe
adopts in contrast to the other tribe) and his Fall (the first murder at
the waterhole) -- one of many paradoxes in the film. Turned carnivore, Man
has opened a new source of food. By slaying a rival, Moonwatcher
(following Biblical Cain) lays the foundations of human society; a
hierarchical society based on Gewalt. (14) His
weapon is his scepter.

Part 2 / [Untitled]

The now following drastic cut from the bone thrown into the air by
Moonwatcher to the bone-shaped space vessel is the most famous example of
2001's elliptic structure -- or rather: of the film 2001.
Clarke ends the "primeval night" [Clarke a) chapter 1; p.9-35] with a
description of the "Ascent of Man" [Clarke a) 33-35] -- Man's development
and expansion over the globe and into space -- and thus establishes a
linear connection to the 20th century. Kubrick, on the other hand,
reduces these 4 million years to 1/24 of a second. He creates a paradox
which places the "state of the art" of Man's achievements next to the very
first tool but at the same time negates any form of "real" progress as it
suggests that since that Pleistocene era there has been no noteworthy
development whatsoever. Man is still using archaic (albeit refined) bones
-- an awareness which the linear narration of the novel cannot convey.

Kubrick "plays" with the bone imagery in orbit in numerous variations,
including its "trivialization" to Floyd's roughly bone-shaped ball pen,
which is floating in zero gravity during his passage to the Moon. [see
also: Nelson 161] The wheel, Man's greatest invention, illustrates the
paradox of progress and confinement: the wheel is moving, but in circles.
(We will find this paradox again later on in part three with Poole's
exercises in the huge centrifuge.)

A wide shot from Earth over a shuttle in orbit to the Moon forms
another 'magical alignment' and reminds us that the goal of the 'first
leg' of Man's development has not yet been reached. The "Dawn of Man" is
still in progress.

Kubrick does not underlie these scenes, which show Dr. Floyd's passage
to the crisis meeting on the Moon, with the bombastic kind of space music
one would expect of a science fiction film. Rather, he uses the classical
sounds of The Blue Danube, which give this sequence a flavor of
anachronism. Geduld describes this combination as "a classical example of
what Eisenstein and Pudovkin call an orchestral counterpoint of visual and
aural images." [Geduld 45] She recognizes the paradox that Kubrick creates
here (again) -- "...the waltz [...] is both appropriate and inappropriate"
[ibid.] -- but misinterprets its intention. To her, "it serves as a
commentary on the nature of space travel in the 21st century: measured,
polished, choreographed, routine. [...] The music reassures us." On the
contrary, the "counterpoint of visual and aural images" is a brilliant
alienation effect with which Kubrick again breaks with linear-causal
conventions and exposes the "polished routine" to ridicule. He degrades
the brightly shining space vessels to artifacts of epochs gone by. [see
also: Nelson 160/161] They are appropriate to the music which underlines
their rotations, inappropriate to the space in which they are circling; no
more than "refined bones" thrown into orbit.

At the same time, we get a first hint at the cyclic overall structure
of 2001: the Ferris-wheel-shaped space station circling in orbit, the
movements of the waltz and the stewardesses walking through wheel
corridors into the cockpit. The "routine" that is shown could also be seen
as a cynical comment on the time the film was shot: the era of the Apollo
Moon Landing Program, which resembled anything but the routine of space
travel. (15)

Compared with the apparent perfection of technology the human
characters appear like dwarfs that try to put the stamp of their limited,
earthly experiences on the vast reaches of space. [see also: Nelson 153] A
"comedy-like moment" is created through the commercialization of space
travel: companies like Pan Am, Bell Telephone, or the Hilton hotel chain
have conquered Earth orbit and give it the trivial aura of a
"middle-American air terminal." [Geduld 46] The pilot of the second space
shuttle looks like the captain of a luxury liner in his white uniform. The
standardization of space is also documented in the loss of wide-eyed
wonder. A sports report on one of the video screens is more interesting to
one of the stewardesses than the view outside the window right beside it.
Floyd sleeps through most of his passage and when he calls home, he
ignores Earth rotating in the background. People have 'gotten used to'
space.

The first words spoken signal the decay of human language to empty
phrases: "Here you are, sir. Main level, please." Floyd would have arrived
at that conclusion by himself. The "Technish" [Clarke a) 121] of Mission
Control, a further example, can be observed most clearly in Part Three;
first hints are already visible in form of abbreviations on various
monitors aboard the space vessels. What is striking is the strong contrast
between progress in telecommunication and regression in human contacts and
"family ties." [see also: Geduld 69] An anonymous "voice print
identification service" recognizes Floyd aboard the Ferris-wheel station.
He calls home via picture phone to tell his daughter that he cannot be
home for her birthday. His wife is not at home. His Russian acquaintance
Elena has not seen her husband for weeks because she has been "up"
calibrating antennas and he has been "down" in the Baltic Sea. Since
descriptions like "up" or "down" are irrelevant in open space, we can see
again that Earth is still the center of Man's cognitive world. In all,
human language is shown as "an instrument as hopelessly outdated as
[Moonwatcher's] bones." [Nelson 151]

Like Moonwatcher's bone, language is nevertheless effectively used as a
weapon. It has mutated from a means of communication to a means of
disguising, of "anti-communication." Just when an important discovery is
made, the phone lines to Moon base Clavius are cut. Floyd dodges his way
through the conversation with the Russians through empty phrases, and
after the "clarifying" speech at the crisis meeting the viewer knows as
little as before. "Knowledge is power" (16), and this
power can only be upheld if one keeps the knowledge to oneself. Floyd's
warning of the "cultural shock" the mysterious discovery could cause
evokes associations with the Spanish Inquisition, which defended the
geocentric world order against 'heretics' like Copernicus and Galilei by
silencing them. When Floyd orders the participants of the meeting to
silence, he perpetuates the "archaic pecking order" [Nelson 153]
Moonwatcher established. Floyd's 'bone' is language.

To Nelson, the "psychological doubling" [Nelson 157] of Moonwatcher and
Floyd, and the repetition of plot elements connected with it show "signs
of an interlocked surrealist comedy." [Nelson 164] Part One described the
state of sleep (in the cave), the search for food, "territorial conflicts
regarding a waterhole" [ibid.] and "a strange artifact." [ibid.] Part two
shows Floyd asleep on the way to the space station, Floyd eating astronaut
food, a "ritualized waterhole" [Nelson 162] (the conversation with the
Russians) and the monolith in the crater. The repetition of these plot
elements demonstrate again that parts one and two really belong to the
"Dawn of Man." This is emphasized by "the ancient cycle of sleeping,
eating [...] and evacuation" (symbolized by the zero gravity toilet)
[Nelson 162] that Floyd performs. (Note: The way he is eating his lunch,
i.e. by sucking via a straw, is "methodwise" only one step away from
drinking mother's milk.) He thus shows no more "activities" than a newborn
during its first weeks in life. Nelson only recognizes this "surrealist
comedy" for Parts One and Two. It will be seen, however, that the same
plot elements can be found in Parts Three and Four, which is another
subliminal foreshadowing of the overall cyclic structure of 2001.
The starting point of an odyssey is inevitably also its end.

Floyd and five other scientists go to the excavation site in the Tycho
Crater to have a look at the discovery. The journey to the excavation site
-- surprising for 2001 -- represents a linear transition from the
crisis meeting. Floyd learns that the monolith was discovered because of
its strong magnetic radiation and that evidence suggests that it was
deliberately buried there about 4 million years ago. The underlying music,
Lux Aeterna by György Ligeti, supports the preparation for the
encounter: The almost sacral choir sounds like an "orderly variation" of
the Requiem, which we will soon hear again at the site. However, we
learn nothing that would bring us closer to a solution of the monolith's
secret. The whole sequence works as a retarding element which summarizes
almost all plot elements that have been shown so far: while being informed
about the monolith (artifact), Floyd is congratulated on his "brilliant
speech" (language/bone); maneuvers are controlled via screens instead of
looking out the windows (progressing technology/regressing sensory
perception); the varieties of astronaut food (eating) "taste the same
anyway."

In the crater the scientists are standing in front of the monolith as
clueless as the primates on Earth four million years before. Floyd
emulates Moonwatcher's gesture but can only "grasp" the monolith through
his space suit. In the vacuum of space a necessity, which however again
implies that technological advancement is only possible at the cost of
immediate sensory perception. The touristic "group picture with artifact"
they are shooting is another example of the trivialization of space travel
to the standards of, e.g., a study trip to Egypt. "With expert irony,"
Kubrick, the former photographer, "turns the magic of the moment into a
farce." [Nelson 165] Precisely at that moment the Sun rises above the
monolith, which emits a shrill radio signal. The astronauts try to cover
their ears instead of regulating the volume at their space suits. Their
instinctive reaction again shows that their cognitive world is still
Earthbound. Part two ends with another magical alignment, which reminds us
of the one that caused Moonwatcher to meditate over the bones and brings
the "surrealist comedy" [Nelson 157] to a full circle: a shot from the
foot of the monolith over the Sun shining above it and the Jupiter
crescent on "top."

Why does the monolith not catalyze a further step of development here?
Is it a punishment for a "disdain of the Second Commandment, Though
shalt not make unto thee any graven image" [Nelson 157]? For
"evolution gone wrong"? After all, Bowman will only be reborn as the
Starchild after having abandoned human society (symbolized by Poole) and
having rid himself of his "bones" (symbolized by HAL). This thesis shall
be discussed later on in part three. We must not for get the subliminal
connection with the 'magical alignments' seen in the opening credit and in
part one. The age of the monolith on the Moon confirms that there must
have been intelligent life there 4 million years ago. Together with the
alignments at least one interpretation is now possible: an alien
intelligence sought contact on Earth, with the monolith as a means of
communication. The primates there, however, were not yet "ready" for the
"cosmic encounter." "Talks" were postponed until they would be, with a
little "evolutionary leg-up" and a directional indication for the first
"goal," the Moon. There a keepsake was buried, which was to give signal as
soon as it would be uncovered by a species that had evolved high enough to
find its way into space travel and to the Tycho Crater. When the first
rays of the Sun hit the monolith after 4 million years, that first goal
was reached. Mankind has finally left its cradle; Jupiter is its next
goal. [cf. Clarke b) 27, 74, 108]

Part 3 / Jupiter Mission -- 18 Months Later

The Jupiter Mission is introduced by a long shot of Discovery, a
225m-long ship (17), which is depicted rather sluggishly
gliding across the screen from left to right. With her segmented,
spine-like middle part she on the one hand appears like a "prehistoric
leviathan" [Nelson 166], on the other hand like a "half-formed fetus."
[Geduld 51] The apparent paradox between these two associations turns out
to be a quite logical continuation of Parts One and Two. Discovery
is another "bone," sent into space by Moonwatcher's descendants. At the
same time, her shape implies that Mankind's "real" development has only
just begun. One could also describe Discovery's shape as that of an
"exorbitant" arrow. Then, we would get a(nother) hint at the
inevitable end of this odyssey: ship and crew will perish, only Mission
Commander Bowman ("the archer," like classical Odysseus) will return to
Earth. (18) The Gayane Ballet Suite (Adagio) by
Khatchaturian, and Poole's jogging in the huge centrifuge (an outsized
hamster wheel?), underline the impression of apathy and inevitability --
and perhaps also futility.

The continuation of the "surrealist comedy" [Nelson 164], which Nelson
only recognizes for parts one and two, is prepared through new
"psychological doublings." [Nelson 157] Bowman and Poole are not direct
doublegangers but mirror-image twins: Bowman sits on the right, eats with
his right hand and parts his hair on the left; Poole sits on the left,
eats with his left hand and parts his hair on the right. [see also: Nelson
170] When either of them is on duty, the other one is sleeping in his
"sleeping coffin." [ibid.] Poole spends his leisure time doing sports
(including the "mental exercise" of chess), Bowman shows modest signs of
being an artist (he makes drawings of the crew in hibernation). HAL has
his (19) own twin: an identical 9000 computer on Earth.
Bowman and HAL will turn out to be direct opponents (indicated by Bowman's
first appearance on screen as a reflection in one of HAL's camera eyes.
[Nelson 172] HAL will "reiterate Moonwatcher's primitive nature and
Floyd's blindness" [ibid.]: he will (try to) defend his power (knowledge)
at the cost of the astronauts' lives. Bowman will continue the "tradition"
of Moonwatcher's and Floyd's gesture toward the monolith (in the
Louis-seize room). Hence, the circle of themes of the "surrealist
comedy" (sleep/waking, food, language, bones, waterhole, artifact) can
open again.

During the BBC News we get a complex illustration of the theme of
"technological progress with emotional regress." Moonwatcher's food could
be clearly identified as small brushes (at first) or hunks of raw meat,
respectively. The labels on the packages (peas, carrots, corn, orange
etc.) from which Floyd sucked his lunch via a straw gave at least a hint
as to what he was eating. The synthetic pastes served on board
Discovery give no information whatsoever about what Bowman and
Poole are eating anymore, and presumably they are no stimuli for the
gustatory nerves, either. Poole describes the artificial hibernation of
the science crew with the sluggishness of a somnambulant. His and Bowman's
lethargy is explained with the introduction of the on-board computer
H.A.L. 9000, called HAL. HAL is "the latest result in machine
intelligence" (keep in mind that choice of words !). He is, as he states
in the BBC interview, "by any practical definition of the words, fool
proof and incapable of error" (again, mind those words for later). All
vital systems are under his direct control. Consequently, Bowman's and
Poole's function is "strictly janitorial." [Geduld 51] Or, as Nelson
points out: "It is due to HAL's extensive competence and perfection that
the idea of tool and creator is reversed: de facto, Bowman and
Poole are already his 'bones'." [Nelson 168] As such they have completely
lost the ability of wide-eyed wonder. It has (apparently) passed
over to the omnipresent camera eyes of a computer that "enjoys working
with people" and "puts himself to the fullest possible use."

In HAL's camera eyes the previously subliminal "eye-like or
eye-analogous structures" [Nelson 167] arrive at their clearest
illustration. They reflect the theme of sleeping and waking or of
"blindness and metaphorical awakening" [Nelson 167], respectively. In part
one the fearful looks of the ape men contrasted with the glowing eyes of
the leopard. The large 'open eyes' (windows) of the space vessels stood in
opposition to the indifferent looks of the characters in part two. HAL's
eyes appear "more alive than the withdrawn and absent-minded looks of
Bowman and Poole." [Nelson 167] To Geduld the "paranoid watchfulness"
[Geduld 52] of HAL's camera eyes are an indication of his later insanity.
(HAL's "consciousness" or "human nature" will be discussed at the end of
part three.)

Programmed to human behavior, HAL is treated like a human being: he is
"the sixth member of the crew." The BBC reporter does not look into the
camera but to the side, where we find one of HAL's eyes next to the
monitor. To the viewer, the reporter is talking directly to HAL. Bowman
and Poole also always turn to one of the cameras when they want to
communicate with him. Their habit could be the reason for their fateful
assumption that HAL will in turn only watch them and follow their
conversations when they are sitting directly in front of him.

The "news" that Poole is told by his parents when they send their
birthday greetings again reveal the linear, geocentric cognitive
structures of the characters. His death shortly afterwards will make "the
higher rates of pay by next month" even more immaterial than they already
are, measured by the space in which he is drifting. Poole's apathy and his
empty eyes when he is receiving the birthday wishes are in direct
opposition to the "watchfulness" of the computer. Only Bowman will
experience a "traumatic awakening" [Nelson 174] when fighting with HAL
over the control of Discovery -- and for his own survival.

The few hobbies we see are symbolic indications of their fates. Poole
loses the chess game with HAL [see also: Nelson 170], Bowman's 'artistic
inclinations' remind us of Biblical David (it is only that instead of
making music he draws). Like his "Old-Testament namesake," David
Bowman will later defeat 'modern Goliath' HAL. Their different character
traits will be further heralds of Poole's death and Bowmans survival.

For what Bowman presumes is HAL's crew psychology report, HAL asks
(rather: questions) Bowman about the "extremely odd things" surrounding
the mission. "Before we left," HAL insinuates, "there have been rumors
about something being dug up on the Moon," and states that the fact that
the science crew was brought aboard already in hibernation had "a
melodramatic touch." Bowman's indifferent reaction shows that he does not
give these stories much credence -- while HAL apparently does, even if he
states otherwise. For the viewer this is surprising because the cut from
the radio signal emitted by the monolith on the Moon to the "Jupiter
Mission" suggested a direct connection. Public participation through BBC
reports gave the impression that the "cultural shock" Floyd had warned of
had been overcome and that everyone was now following the search for
further evidence for extraterrestrial intelligence. Why do we now learn
that not even the crew are informed about the purpose of the mission --
and that they do not even ask themselves why they are "up" there en route
to Jupiter? Why does the computer ask the questions one would expect from
the human? The policy of concealing the truth even from the astronauts
continues Floyd's principle of retaining power through withholding
information and renders Discovery a microcosm that reflects the
societal structures we have already seen in Earth orbit. At the end of
Part Three, HAL will be revealed as Floyd's 'representative.' In this
scene, however, the contrast between Bowman's 'mental lethargy' and HAL's
'sharp observations' documents the progressing loss of wide-eyed wonder on
the human side and suggests a transfer of that wonder -- and of human
curiosity -- to Man's "bones." This contrast indicates a reversion of the
relation of creator and tool that will later culminate in the depiction of
the murder of the three scientists by HAL on the one hand and the
switching-off of the computer by Bowman on the other.

The fact that HAL's "speculations" will turn out to be "hypocritical"
as he is fully informed about the purpose of the mission is significant in
two ways: 1) it is an important aspect regarding the question whether HAL
is a "sentient being" (or has "genuine emotions," respectively), which
will be dealt with at the end of Part Three; 2) HAL only mentions his
strikingly detailed suspicions to Bowman, the only one to survive. Within
the 'symbolic logic' of the film, this appears like a foretelling of (or
preparation for) Bowman's fate.

Poole and Bowman regard themselves as having the situation well in
hand. When HAL reports that the AE-35 unit is defective and will shortly
fail completely, they handle the "incident" with the usual routine. Their
stoic calmness is documented by the long shots and slow motions that
describe the EVA of replacing the antenna. The "Cyclops eyes" of the space
pods are another example of "eyeing forms" [Nelson 157] in 2001. Together
with the camera eyes beneath they give us a hint that the pods are part of
Discovery's on-board system and at their quality as HAL's "handy men"
(also in a literal sense as Poole will die at the "hands" of one of the
pods). The "Cyclops pods" do not forge lightnings for their "Zeus" (Hal)
as in the classical epic, they are the weapons through which Poole will
die.

The "Technish" [Clarke a) 121] of Mission Control with whom Bowman and
Poole are discussing the eminent failure represents the climax of the
decay of human language to empty phrases and jargon:

X-Ray Delta-One this is Mission Control. Roger your
Two-Zero-One-Three. Sorry you fellows are having a bit of trouble. We are
reviewing our telemetric information in our mission simulator and we'll
advise. Roger your plan to go EVA and replace Alpha Echo Three-Five unit
prior to failure.[The order to replace the AE-35 unit with a spare]

X-Ray Delta-One this is Mission Control. Roger your
One-Niner-Three-Zero. We concur with your plan to replace number one unit
to check fault prediction. We should advise you, however, that our
preliminary findings indicate that your on-board Niner-Triple-Zero
computer is in error predicting the fault. I say again, in error
predicting the fault. I know this sounds rather incredible but this
conclusion is based on results from our twin Niner-Triple-Zero computer.
We are skeptical ourselves and we are running cross-checking routines to
determine reliability of this conclusion. Sorry about this little snag,
fellows, and we'll get this info to you just as soon as we work it out.
X-Ray Delta-One, this is Mission Control, Two-Zero-Four-Niner,
transmission concluded. [The report that HAL must be "in error"]

During the now following discussion with HAL and during the
conversation between the astronauts about HAL after that, Poole appears as
the 'heretic,' Bowman as the 'appeasing' part of the duo (which is not
only illustrated by what they say but also by their voices: Poole always
sounds a bit louder, more casual and, if you will, more aggressive than
Bowman):

HAL: I hope the two of you are not concerned about
this?

Bowman: No, I'm not, HAL.

HAL: Are you sure?

Bowman: Yeah, I'd like to ask you a question, though.

HAL: Of course.

Bowman: How would you account for the discrepancy between you and
the twin 9000?

HAL: Well, I don't think there is any question about it. This can
only be attributable to human error. This sort of thing has cropped up
before, and it has always been due to human error.

Poole: Listen, HAL. There's never been any incidence at all of a
computer error occurring in a 9000 series, has there?

HAL: None whatsoever, Frank. The 9000 series has a perfect
operational record.

Poole: Well, of course I know all the wonderful achievements of the
9000 series, but are you certain there's never been any case of even the
most insignificant computer error?

On the pretext of having some technical problems, Bowman and Poole step
into one of the space pods and switch off the audio channels in order to
have a "private" conversation. HAL's skills betray them: a look outside
through the Cyclops eye of the pod to HAL and from his point of view into
the pod foretells disastrous things to come. HAL lip-reads what he is not
supposed to hear:

Poole: Well? What do you think?

Bowman: I'm not sure. What do you think?

Poole: I've got a bad feeling about him.

Bowman: You do?

Poole: Yeah. Definitely. Don't you?

Bowman: I don't now. I think so. You know of course, though, he is
right about the 9000 series having a perfect operational record. They
do.

Poole: Unfortunately that sounds a little like "Famous Last
Words."

Bowman: Yeah. Still it was his idea to carry out the failure mode
analysis, wasn't it? That should certainly indicate his integrity and
self-confidence. If he were wrong, it would be the surest way of proving
it.

Poole: It would be if he knew he was wrong.

Bowman: Mmh.

Poole: Look Dave. I can't put my finger on it by I sense something
strange about him.

Bowman: Still I can't think of a good reason not to put back in the
number one unit and go through with the failure mode analysis.

Poole: No, ah, I agree about that.

Bowman: Well, let's get on with it.

Poole: O.K. But look, Dave. Let's say we put the unit back and it
doesn't fail, huh? That would pretty much wrap it up as far as HAL was
concerned, wouldn't it?

Bowman: Well, we'd be in serious trouble.

Poole: We would, wouldn't we.

Bowman: Hmm.

Poole: What the hell can we do?

Bowman: Hmm. Well, we wouldn't have too many alternatives.

Poole: I don't think we'd have any alternatives. There isn't
a single aspect of ship operations that's not under his control. If he
were to be proven to be malfunctioning I wouldn't see I would have any
choice but disconnection.

Bowman: I'm afraid I agree with you.

Poole: There'd be nothing else to do.

Bowman: It'd be tricky.

Poole: Yeah.

Bowman: We'd have to cut his higher brain functions without
disturbing the purely automatic and regulatory systems, and we'd have to
work out the transfer procedures of continuing the mission under
ground-based computer control.

Bowman: Well, as far as I know, no 9000 computer has ever been
disconnected.

Poole: Well, no 9000 computer has ever fouled up before.

Bowman: That's not what I mean.

Poole: Hmm?

Bowman: Well, I'm not so sure what he'd think about it.

There is no doubt: the tool has passed its master. HAL makes use of a
form of communication that Bowman and Poole have forgotten about. When
Poole leaves Discovery to put the AE-35 unit back in, the suspicion turns
out to be true. The Cyclops eye of the pod seems to be searching for its
target when the arms reach out for their lethal embrace. A series of short
cuts of the camera eye of the approaching pod ends in a close up of HAL's
"eye" to reveal the author of the "accident." Observed from a neutral
perspective, Poole's death seems arbitrary: Bowman could also have been
killed in his place. The 'symbolic logic,' however, does not allow any
other constellation. Poole's "high treason," his doubts about the
"omniscient" and (almost) "omnipotent" machine is punished with death.

Instead of the space pod slowly rising above the head of Discovery and
the routined maneuvers of the astronauts, we see Poole desperately
wriggling and the pod circling in space pilotless. The abrupt change from
long and "calm" shots and movements to short and "hectic" ones marks the
beginning of Bowman's "traumatic awakening." [Nelson 174] When he wants to
save Poole, he "symbolically loses his head" [Nelson 176] -- he leaves his
helmet behind in Discovery. The helmet "has so far insulated him from the
vacuum of space, but has at the same time isolated him from direct
experience" [ibid.] Bowman starts to free himself from a dilemma that
became evident with Floyd's attempt to touch the monolith: technical and
spatial progress only seems possible at the cost of sensory perception.
Bowman becomes "the first figure in the film [...] that looks out of a
window into space in order to see something. [Nelson 176] His human
"curiosity," the zeal to find something (i.e. Poole), has reawoken. He
salvages his comrade and returns to Discovery.

Meanwhile, HAL uses his now uninhibited control over the ship and kills
the scientists in hibernation. The lines in the displays above their
sleeping coffins were the only evidence of their physiological existence.
They have, however, never lived as real characters. Correspondingly, a
flattening of the lines and the warning signals COMPUTER MALFUNCTION --
LIFE FUNCTIONS CRITICAL --- LIFE FUNCTIONS TERMINATED are the only
indications of their physiological deaths. The shocking
matter-of-factness, with which HAL eliminates those that are in his way,
will appear even more grotesque in comparison with his own disconnection
(and will thus be discussed then in more detail).

When Bowman orders HAL to open the pod bay doors, the head of
Discovery appears like a grimlooking Goliath opposed to the tiny
space pod. The matter-of-factness with which HAL tells Bowman (who is
struggling for words) that being disconnected is something he "is afraid
[he] cannot allow to happen," underlines his apparent superiority:

Bowman: Open the pod bay doors, please, HAL. .....
Hello HAL, do you read me? Hello HAL, do you read me? Do you read me HAL?
..... Do you read me HAL? ..... Hello HAL, do you read me? Hello HAL, do
you read me? Do you read me, HAL?

HAL: Affirmative, Dave. I read you.

Bowman: Open the pod bay doors, HAL.

HAL: I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that.

Bowman: What's the problem?

HAL: I think you know what the problem is just as well as I
do.

Bowman: What are you talking about, HAL.

HAL: This mission is too important for me to allow you to
jeopardize it.

Bowman: I don't know what you're talking about, HAL.

HAL: I know that you and Frank were planning to disconnect me. And
I'm afraid that's something I cannot allow to happen.

Bowman: Where the hell did you get that idea, HAL?

HAL: Dave....although you took very thorough precautions in the pod
against my hearing you, I could see your lips move.

Bowman: All right, HAL. I'll go in through the emergency
airlock.

HAL: Without your space helmet, Dave, you are going to find that
rather difficult.

Bowman: Hal, I won't argue with you anymore. Open the doors.

HAL: Dave. This conversation can serve no purpose any more.
Goodbye.

Bowman: HAL? HAL ! HAL! HAL!! HAL!!! .....

But David defeated Goliath. The lack of his space helmet puts Bowman
into a situation in which no character since Moonwatcher has been. Like
his ancestor, he has a visible goal that seems to be out of reach due to
the perilous influences of his environment. Moonwatcher had to fight
leopard attacks, rivaling tribes and starvation on his way to the Moon,
for Bowman the way to Discovery leads only through the vacuum of
space. For both the combination of a precarious situation and a visible
goal led/leads to an 'awakening' from their lethargy and to a 'breakout'
from their prison. Moonwatcher realized that the bones would be his tool
and weapon in the effort to rise above his enemies and to catapult himself
from an apathetic existence at bare survival level to the Moon. (In this
context, the cut from the bone thrown into the air to the bone-shaped
space vessel turns out to be the illustration of the direct transformation
of an idea into action. Moonwatcher has "really" thrown the bone into
orbit.) Bowman realizes that his trust in the extensive services of his
"bones" has surrendered him to just that dependence and inertia that has
cost the crew's lives.

This parallel sheds a new light on the monolith in the African veldt:
Instead of having bestowed the ape men with intelligence (i.e. of giving
them the capability to evolve in the first place), it now appears to have
given them a "reason" to turn existing potential into action. Reversing
McLuhan's thesis that "the medium is the message," the message ("Go to the
Moon!") became the catalyst of action -- quite like what Kubrick said
about the intention of 2001 as a whole (see above; (6)).

The parallel also explains why Floyd did not experience any further
evolution when he touched the monolith: The impulse of the monolith
on the Moon posed no further technical challenge. The same 'bones' (space
vessels, space suits etc.) that had brought Moonwatcher's descendants to
the Moon would bring them to Jupiter as well.

Quite like Moonwatcher, Bowman accepts the challenge to reach his goal
despite adverse preconditions. However, his actions "no longer consist in
acquiring tools but in abandoning them." [Nelson 177] He
does not pick up a bone like Moonwatcher but starts to free himself from
his 'bones'. On a symbolic level he separates from his "Earth identity"
[ibid.] (or from human civilization in form of his mirror-image twin,
respectively): in order to return to Discovery, he must release
Poole. Biblical David picked up stones and took a slingshot to defeat
Goliath; Bowman catapults himself to his enemy. Without hesitation, he
goes to HAL's brain room to disconnect him. HAL's brain is the third
'waterhole' of 2001, whose topic of conflict is control over
Discovery. Bowman's 'bone' is the screw driver with which he gains
access to the LOGIC MEMORY CENTER and deactivates the modules. HAL's
'bone' is language, with which he tries to persuade Bowman not to
disconnect him. His desperate appeal lets the disconnection seem more
touching than the murder of the three scientists in hibernation before, to
which this scene stands in direct opposition:

Just what do you think you're doing, Dave? ..... Dave ! I
really think I am entitled to an answer to that question. ..... I know
everything hasn't been quite right with me. But I can assure you now, very
confidently, that it's going to be all right again. I feel much better
now. I really do. Look, Dave. I can see you're really upset about this. I
honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill and think
things over. I know I've made some very poor decisions recently. But I can
give you my complete assurance that my work will be back to normal. I've
still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in the mission, and I
want to help you. Dave. Stop. ... Stop, will you? ... Stop, Dave. ... Will
you stop, Dave? ..... Stop, Dave. .... I'm afraid. I'm afraid, Dave. ...
Dave. My mind is going. I can feel it. ... I can feel it. My mind is
going. ... There is no question about it. ..... I can feel it. I can feel
it. I can feel it. I'm a...fraid.

The reversal of the relation of creator and tool has reached its
climax: human beings are "switched off," computers are "killed."
2001 has often been criticized for its "dehumanized', i.e. minimal,
description of human characters" and for the "ironic point that HAL ...
shows more human behavior than the astronauts." [Nelson 148] Nelson
defends this "dehumanization" for two reasons: 1) to him, Kubrick "breaks
with the illusion of psychological depth .. and links the description of
the characters to the symbolism and mythology of the film" [Nelson 149];
2) "against the esthetically dominating factors of space and space
technology the human characters must appear small and insignificant."
[Nelson 150] With the "symbolism and mythology," Nelson describes the
recurring circle of themes (food, language, sleep, bones, waterhole, and
artifact). It is surprising that despite this argument he only
acknowledges the "surrealist comedy" [Nelson 164] for parts one and two.
His second argument is, however, not acceptable. The human characters do
not appear "small and insignificant" because space is vast but because
their "human greatness," their psychological depth, has been taken from
them. (to give just one counter example: in the Star Trek series,
the Enterprise sets out "to explore strange new worlds" far larger
than we can image, yet do we perceive Captain Kirk or Picard as an
"insignificant character"?) Nelson recognizes the method but fails to see
the effect. 2001 lacks "just that Earth-bound sort of human drama
which we have learned to expect from cinema." [Nelson 149] The minimal
description of the human characters (and the maximal description of HAL)
is thus part of Kubrick's break with linear-causal conventions of
"storytelling" and of his challenge to the audience to free themselves
from a passively-receiving form of perception. The effect of the drastic
reversal of the relation of creator and tool is the shock-like realization
of "where mechanization/technization can lead" (just think of the 1990's
film The Net with Sandra Bullock).

We learn more about HAL's biography than we do about the family ties of
the human characters. Moonwatcher could still be seen among his tribe,
Floyd talked to his daughter on the picture phone. Poole received birthday
wishes from his parents but could not answer since the message had been
prerecorded. Bowman, finally, does not seem to have any contact with his
relatives. HAL, on the other hand, tells us about his "place" and "date of
birth," the name of his "father and teacher," and about his first "lesson":

HAL: Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm an H.A.L. 9000
computer. I became operational at the H.A.L. plant in Urbana, Illinois, on
the 12th of January 1992. My instructor was Mr. Langley, and he taught me
to sing a song. If you'd like to hear it, I can sing it for you.

Bowman: Yes, I'd like to hear it, HAL. Sing it for me.

HAL: It's called "Daisy." Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do.
I'm HALf cra...zy all for the love of you. It won't be a stylish marriage.
I can't afford a carriage. But you'll look sweet ...upon the seat...of a
bicycle ...built ...for two.

To Geduld, the "progressive breakdown of family life" portrays an
ongoing search for "sexual self-sufficiency," which finds its climax in
Bowman's escape from "the women and family ties represented by
mother Earth" --to her "as old a theme in western literature as
Homer and Plato." [Geduld 69/70] Her argumentation cannot convince. Is
HAL, in contrast, looking for a "cyber-space family" due to his "human
traits"? Geduld neglects the fact that the loss of family ties is
congruent with growing telecommunication, with a technologically and
spatially advancing transmission of information. She further ignores the
correlation of this loss with the growing submission of the characters to
their 'bones' -- and thus with their being at their tools' 'mercy.' Bowman
and Poole have accepted HAL as a living being to such a degree that they
first have to discuss how he would react to disconnection instead of
acting at once. This hesitation costs four people's lives.

During the BBC interview it is speculated whether HAL is a 'being,'
whether he has 'genuine emotions.' This speculation is a central factor of
the questions Kubrick deliberately leaves unanswered: Why does he ask
Bowman about the "extremely odd things" surrounding the mission if we
learn in the end that he was fully informed about the purpose of the
mission? Why does he kill the crew? Why does the tool turn against its
creator? Geduld describes the "paranoid watchfulness" [Geduld 52] in HAL's
camera eyes. For Nelson, he has "lost his machine innocence because he has
been programmed to human behavior." [Nelson 174] He "is stained with the
knowledge of his autonomy and thus unable to function as a tool." [ibid.]
Both Geduld and Nelson see HAL as a "human" or "human-like reacting being"
that has been driven to madness by the conflict between the order to carry
out the mission and the order to keep its purpose a secret. [Geduld 53 /
Nelson 174]

Both of them disregard the difference between intellect and
intelligence. HAL has the intellect to "reproduce most of the activities
of the human brain, and with incalculably greater speed and reliability,"
as Mr. Amer pointed out in the BBC interview. That is what he was
programmed to do. He does, however, not have the intelligence to weigh two
contradicting orders and to disobey one of them "for the good of the
mission." HAL stated his (in)abilities himself in the interview: the 9000
series is "fool proof and incapable of error." He cannot fail to obey
orders (one reason why strategic defense systems during the Cold War were
based on fail-safe computers -- because they would not fail to "push the
button"?). But only the balance between doing what is possible (a matter
of intellect) and doing what is advisable (a matter of intelligence)
signifies 'being human.'

As HAL is not able to decide upon following either order, he is
compelled to try to combine them. He systematically eliminates everything
that could endanger either the execution of the mission or the concealment
of its purpose: the contact with mission control (the AE 35 unit), that
could inform the astronauts; the scientists in hibernation, who could find
out about the purpose when discussing the contents of their individual
training programs; Poole, who suggests to disconnect him. He denies Bowman
return access to Discovery and is only defeated because Bowman has
another quality which the computer lacks: the will to survive.

Through the videotape, which is released automatically upon entering
Jupiter space, Bowman learns about the purpose of the mission --
incidentally (???) just after he has disconnected HAL. HAL's "hubristic"
statement (20) that "no 9000 computer has ever made a
mistake" (made during the BBC interview) and that the "incongruities"
between his findings and those of the twin 9000 on Earth are "due to human
error" turns out to be true:

Good day, gentlemen. This is a prerecorded briefing made
prior to your departure, and which for security reasons of the highest
importance has been known on board during the mission only by your HAL
9000 computer. Now that you're in Jupiter space and the entire crew is
revived, it can be told to you. 18 Months ago, the first evidence of
intelligence life off the earth was discovered. It was buried 40 feet
below the lunar surface, near the Crater Tycho. Except for a single, very
powerful radio emission aimed at Jupiter, the 4 million year old black
monolith has remained completely inert, its origin and purpose are still a
total mystery.

HAL is a perfect machine. He has carried out all orders given to him --
execution of the mission and its strict concealment, even from the
astronauts. Nelson gives the reasons for the "human error" (even if he
does not state the causal connection between them): the machines in
2001 are "Man's children ... In them, Man's love of beauty and
search for order finds an object and perpetuation." [Nelson 168] Children
can further develop the knowledge their parents have accumulated an learn
from their parents' mistakes. The "error" is based on the misjudgment that
machines have the same potential. They are, however "only Man's
physical/psychological extensions, ... which can enhance their creator's
qualities but not transcend them." [Nelson 168] A tool only serves the
functions its creator sees in them. Only Moonwatcher's deed made the bone
a weapon. HAL as a computer can only be as "clever" as his creator (Mr.
Langley) has programmed him. Mr. Langley made just this mistake: he
thought that his "child" HAL would be "intelligent" enough to see through
the obvious contradiction between execution and concealment of the
mission. Since HAL has no intelligence he cannot "see" that informing the
crew at the proper time would have been inevitable. With the bitter irony
that the conflict is solved only a little too late we learn that the
crucial addendum ("Now that you are in Jupiter space...") was on a
videotape to which HAL had no access.

HAL's language also reveals his "human programming": His "grand
understatement" [Nelson 344] that he has "made some very poor decisions
recently" and that he has " still got the greatest enthusiasm and
confidence in the mission" are as empty as Floyd's speech at the crisis
meeting and "helpless" against Bowman's "primitive" will to survive. The
children's song that he sings again proves Nelson's theory that the
machines in 2001 are "Man's children" and make his 'development'
into a killing machine appear even more horrifying.

The videotape exposes HAL as Floyd's representative. So long as he was
the only one to have full knowledge of the purpose of the mission he could
maintain the archaic power structures based on having the lead in
knowledge. HAL's questions to Bowman on the "odd things" were part of the
job to secure those power structures. Bowman's reaction proved that he had
not found out about the mission's purpose. (Maybe the "eminent failure" of
the AE-35 unit was a clever distraction devised by HAL so as not to get
Bowman brooding over HAL's 'speculations.') Within Jupiter space, quite
probably, there would have been no more BBC interviews in which the (then
informed) astronauts could have revealed the secret to the public
prematurely.

For the first time, language is used to pass on information. The
situation in which the tape is released, however, and its content make
language as useless as its former employment to distort information. The
conflict-solving message comes too late for the crew, and 'real news' is
not revealed either. Floyd only sums up what the audience have figured out
themselves by now.

The tape is accidentally released just after HAL has been disconnected.
Within the 'symbolical logic' of 2001, however, the disclosure of
the secret, to Bowman, appears like a "reward" for his achievement: he has
"freed Man out of the tyranny of his own tools." [Nelson 174] Now the
archaic power structures are breaking up, Bowman is prepared for his
"cosmic rebirth" as the Starchild.

With the prerecorded briefing about the discovery of the monolith on
the Moon, the artifact is taken up as the last of the recurring motifs of
2001. The circle of themes closes a third time.

Part 4 / Jupiter and Beyond the Infinite

Wide camera shots over the "world" of Jupiter and its moons introduce
part four of our Space Odyssey. A gigantic monolith is floating between
the moons. The size of this strange world makes Discovery appear as
tiny as a spot and exposes the insignificance of the part of space which
Man has so far "conquered."

The necklace-like lineup of the Jupiter moons is a rare event even on
the cosmic scale. It reminds us of the conjunctions of the opening credit
(Moon - Earth - Sun) and parts one and two (Monolith - Sun - Moon/Jupiter)
and, as another magical alignment, serves as an indication of "something
important" that is about to happen. "All through the film," Nelson says,
"Kubrick indirectly promises us ... a look into the world of the
monolith." [Nelson 178], which has so far remained impenetrable to any
attempts to analyze it. The circumstances of its presence (plus the number
and length of the shots in which it is visible) foretell us that we are
soon about to explore these worlds. To Geduld the cruciform, which the
monolith forms with the Jupiter moons, is symbol of a corrupted
passion that takes up the theme of the corrupted Genesis from
part one and forebodes Bowman's death and resurrection. [Geduld 52]
According to Kubrick's challenge to the audience to find an individual
approach to 2001, her association is of course justified. However,
in the course of part four Geduld will reduce her approach to a
(Christian) linear interpretation of Bowman's transformation into the
StarChild which completely ignores the film's overall cyclic structure.

Bowman abandons the 'bone' of Discovery and proceeds to the
magical alignment in one of the space pods. As the approaches the
monolith, it opens to a Star Gate (21) of
dimensions undreamed-of. Kubrick keeps his promise "both through a flood
of colors and patterns never seen before and through the repetition of
familiar images in new contexts." [Nelson 178] Bowman speeds in his pods
through dazzling corridors of light and over surreal landscapes. Kubrick's
rejection of the communicative abilities of language turns out to be a
clever "conditioning" of the audience: the visual images defy the
limitations of verbal expressions and make Bowman's ultimate trip
(22) an experience that is literally "beyond words."

The glaring colors of the corridors, the polyphonic music
(Atmospheres by György Ligeti) and the increasingly distorted
still shots of Bowman's face describe his "nightmarish awakening."
Eventually, we only see a closeup of his iris, "which in form and size
reminds us of HAL's distorting camera eye but reflects the unreal colors of
what it sees and thus becomes an emblem of perception itself." [Nelson
179] This comparison between Bowman's iris and HAL's camera eye again
illustrates the contrast between Man and machine and refutes Geduld's
theory of HAL's "paranoid watchfulness" [Geduld 52]: HAL's rigid camera eye
was an instrument which received optical signals without any visible
differentiation and processed them on to his brain. Bowman's feeling, to
optical stimuli reacting organ-as the 'window of the soul' (23) showed/shows his mental state of sleeping, or of
waking/awakening.

The view opens from narrow corridors to wide open, exotic landscapes
that seem strangely familiar-or are they familiar landscapes (Monument
Valley, The Hebrides) that seem strangely exotic? Where will this trip
end? Bowman's advance into visual dimensions never seen before creates
within the audience the expectation of a climax that lies beyond all
imaginative powers and that gives the 'ultimate trip' a fitting ending.
Expecting the unexpected -- an apparently insoluble paradox, which Kubrick
masters ingeniously. He confronts the audience -- who have just adapted to
an "unconventional" form of storytelling -- with a "conventionalization"
[Nelson 30]: he lets the trip come to an abrupt stop in a room in the
style of Louis XVI. The journey through endless-seeming worlds never seen
before, with images beyond imagination and off any verbal description,
suddenly ends in the confines of a room whose interior is clearly
identifiable through an educated knowledge of history.

The Louis-seize room is chiefly regarded as the most
mysterious and puzzling sequence of 2001. Its symbolic importance
is often stressed but hardly ever analyzed beyond mentioning the mere
word. To Nelson, it represents the "ephemeral nature" of Bowman's memory
[Nelson 177]; Geduld analogously calls it "a prototype of past
world history in alien territory." [Geduld 61f] Neither of them goes
into detail on why Kubrick chose this interior. Nelson [181] and
Geduld [61f] accept the explanation Clarke gives in the novel: the room is
a set provided by Bowman's (extraterrestrial?) hosts. They have taken
their inspiration from a TV film on earth; the signals of the broadcasting
station were sucked in by the monolith on the moon and were sent to
Jupiter along with the radio signal to prepare Bowman's welcome. [Clarke
a) chapter 44; 210-217]

Clarke's explanation is fathomable but reduces the room to a mere
theater-like decoration and ignores the historical and symbolical
importance of the Louis-seize style. Louis XVI. was the last King
of the Ancien régime (Fr. "old, archaic ruling system"), the
absolutist form of rule of France, which found a bloody ending in the
French Revolution. The end of absolutism was closely linked to the
American War of Independence against England, in which France took part on
the American side. The new ideas of human and civil rights that came back
to France this way proved fatal to the French monarchy. Attempts at reform
made by Louis' ministers could not gain acceptance with clergy and
nobility. In 1793, at the height of the French Revolution, he was publicly
guillotined after an attempt to flee. The Louis-seize Epoch was an
era of deep-rooted change, in which archaic power structures, based on
(absolutist) Gewalt, were broken up as violently.

With the Louis-seize interior Kubrick takes up the motif of
"Evolution through Revolution" from part one and renders the room a
microcosm in which the whole circle of themes (sleep/waking, food,
language, bones, waterhole, and artifact) is recapitulated on a highly
symbolized and condensed level: Bowman separates from the technology
(space pod and suit) that has isolated him from direct experience and
perception (tools). [see also: Nelson 183] As an elder gentleman he has
dinner at the table (food). (After the "aromatic regression" throughout
the film this eating from golden plates seems like fine irony; the
interior of a decadent epoch, however, stresses the ongoing theme of
decay.) Bowman no longer has to fight at a waterhole, the water is already
in the (roughly bone-shaped) glass. When he breaks it, he also
symbolically separates from his last 'bone.' [see also: Nelson 183] Dying
Bowman emulates Moonwatcher's gesture when he sees the last monolith at
the foot of his bed (artifact). The Starchild leaves the confines of the
Louis-seize room and thus overcomes the archaic societal
structures. His open eyes testify to his renewed wide-eyed wonder
(waking).

It was especially the open, mystic/mysterious ending of 2001
that led to many diverging speculations. In some interpretations it is
deduced from Bowman's transformation into the Starchild that "the Gods (or
God-like aliens) have accepted Man into their circle." (24) In this context, the Zarathustra-motif from the opening
credit and part one, which we are hearing again during Bowman's
transformation and return to Earth, would comment the Starchild's
"glorious" ascent into the "Olympus of the Solar System" -- after all, the
heavenly bodies were named after classical Greek and Roman mythology.

Geduld describes the ending as a "corrupted passion ... in which
crucifixion, resurrection, and virgin birth are simultaneously experienced
by a single man." [Geduld 71] To her, Bowman turns into a "superior being"
[Geduld 63], into a "superman -- Starchild -- thing" [Geduld 71] which gives
birth to itself and controls the universe without the need of tools. She
explains the contradiction between her interpretation and the appearance
of the fetus -- "the last [sic!] thing we expect Bowman to turn into, an
image not associated with a superman but with Mankind's own humble
biology..." [Geduld 64] -- as part of Kubrick's method of playing with the
audience's expectations. Kubrick does indeed play with our expectations,
but in that he challenges us to open up to an unconventional,
visually-associating form of perception. A fetus does not evoke
associations with a superior being, let alone with divine perfection into
whose circle it could be permitted. A fetus is a being at the beginning of
its development; its abilities are yet unknown, its instincts untrained.
The idea of Bowman's transformation into a 'superior being' testifies to
the (Christian) linear approach on which it is based. It corresponds to
the conventional, linear ways of thinking and acting of the characters
that have disqualified themselves in the course of the film. A linear
interpretation ignores the fact that Bowman's rapid aging, his death and
rebirth as the Starchild -- the only logical next step -- describe
the circle of life, through which the symbolic actions in the
Louis-seize room are integrated into the cyclic overall structure
of 2001 that has been foretold already with the first scenes in
Earth orbit.

The distorted variation on Ligeti's Avventures, with which
Bowman is welcomed in the room, sounds like whispering or like "alien
laughter" [Geduld 61], respectively. It reminds us of the choir of voices
that so far has foretold the appearance of the monolith. Is there some
cosmic intelligence amused about the fact that, with those primitive
tools, Mankind has found the way to this room at all? The fact that Bowman
breaks the glass accidentally and not deliberately is another indication
that Mankind is still imperfect. An acceptance into the 'circle of
divinity' is out of the question.

In psychoanalytic symbolism, the room is commonly referred to as an
image of one's self. (25) In this light, David Bowman's
ultimate trip is a trip to himself (the final voyage, a memory
trip [Nelson 172] at the point of death?). The "surrealist landscapes" are
then images (lifetime memories? collective memories?) emanating from his
brain that go back as far as Moonwatcher's dawn in Africa: Bowman emulates
his ancestor's gesture when he becomes aware of the monolith at the foot
of the bed. The Louis-seize room becomes a virtual location at
which Bowman recognizes himself as a representative of the old, archaic
structures of human "civilization" (established by Moonwatcher) and
realizes his "rank" within the "cosmic scheme"a fetus whose "existence"
has only just begun. [see also: Clarke b) 38] The Zarathustra-motif also
returns to its "original" meaning. It describes the moment of Bowman's
becoming aware and of his enlightenment -- the transformation into the
brightcy shining StarChild. His return from Jupiter to Earth reminds of
the return of enlightened Zarathustra (or, if you like, Buddha) from the
mountain to Mankind's civilization.

The return of the "Zarathustra -- Odysseus -- Starchild" is introduced by a
final magical alignment, which reverses the direction of the conjunction
of the opening credit. Instead of and 'up-shot' Moon-Earth-Sun, we see a
down/sideways-shot from the Moon over Earth to the StarChild, which takes
on the cosmic perspective. [Nelson 184] The circle of themes closes a
fourth time. This Odyssey is over; a new one is just beginning.

Synopsis / 2001:Un Film Sans Message?

What does the returning Bowman -- Starchild -- Zarathustra want to tell us
when he is looking at us with his large, questioning eyes? Why does the
journey into infinity end in Earth orbit? What is "the message" of
2001?

Eisenschitz (26) calls 2001 "a film without a
message." On the contrary, the "message" of 2001 seems to be so
complex that it is hard to see -- forgive my profane choice of words --
"the forest for the trees." To Feldmann (27), the
Space Odyssey (1968), A Clockwork Orange (1971), and
Barry Lyndon (1975) form "Kubrick's trilogy about Western
civilization." A qualified evaluation of his theory would necessitate an
in-depth analysis of Western society, which is not (and cannot be) the aim
of this essay. However, certain traits of Western society are clearly
discernible, for instance if we take a look at the circle of themes (food,
bones, waterhole, language, sleeping/waking, and artifact), which shall
briefly be illustrated here -- even if taken as mere "associations." The
fact that Kubrick's portrayal of the "space and communication age" has
lost nothing of its topicality after almost 30 years but -- on the
contrary -- seems more up-to-date than ever, only adds to its prophetic
quality.

First and simplest example is the theme of food or "ingestion,"
respectively, which is often drawn upon as "an indicator of the stage of a
society's stage of civilization." [Nelson 129] For Pleistocene Man,
hunting or collecting food was a persisting problem and a key task in
everyday life. The following communal consumption was correspondingly
appreciative. In modern Western society, however, food is affluent and
manifold; eating has degenerated to ritualized meal-times (breakfast,
lunch, dinner...) or consists in a snack 'in between' -- if it fits into
the hectic work schedule. The only reason why we do not see the golden
arches of McDonald's in Earth orbit is that the fast food chain
became ubiquitous only after the release of 2001.

In the bone-motif one can recognize the growing mechanization of public
and private life. Electronic cash, health-insurance chip cards and
machine-readable id's are just a few examples. The personal computer has
become an everyday household item next to dishwasher, microwave or
television set. In the 1968 Playboy interview, Kubrick made a
statement on these development: "There's no doubt that we're entering a
mechanarchy." (28) Analogously, in one review of
2001 we can find the statement "2001 2001 can be taken as a
satire of the society which makes technology its god." (29) Very revealing in this context is the description of
space travel made by the space advocates (30) of
NASA. Their rhetoric is closely linked to the terms Frontier and
Manifest Destiny (31), which give space travel the
aura of "a secular, humanistic religion." (32) In one
NASA publication we can even find the statement: "Without sanctifying the
results through comparison, Man's creation of spacecraft 'in his own
image' follows the example set by God in the creation of Man." (33) -- a glorification of technology that even exceeds the
"mechanarchy" of 2001.

The "waterhole" can be seen as a symbol of competition in market
economy, in which getting ahead of -- or even eliminating! -- one's
competitors is one key to success. Scientific research takes place under
the same conditions of utmost concealment of information as the
development of new prototypes of all sorts of products, ranging from cars
over computer programs and systems to the next generation of laundry
detergents. This fight for predominance on the market becomes visible (or
public) in advertisement. Giesen (34) draws an
interesting parallel between advertisement and Kubrick's endeavor to
create "an experience ... that ... directly penetrates the subconscious"
(6):

In this endeavor 2001 can be placed directly next to
advertisement-an outsized commercial that in its own way did indeed
advertise the futuristic goals and projects of a whole phalanx of
companies and institutions: Bell Telephone Laboratories, Inc.; Boeing
Company; Chrysler Corp.; Douglas Aircraft Co.; Pan American Airlines
etc. Accompanied by the sounds of the waltz (The Blue Danube),
trade marks are perpetuated, which also signifies a perpetuation of the
societal circumstances in which they originated.

Giesen only leaves out that Kubrick "perpetuates" these trade marks
with a certain twinkle: They appear misplaced even for a viewer of the
1990s, and thus make us aware of advertisement as a method.

Kubrick's vision of the regression of language and of human bondings with
simultaneously progressing telecommunication is very impressive. Factors
like urgency, importance or costs seems like archaic remnants from the
times of couriers on horseback and have lost their weight in the
transmission of information. On the "data highways," the barriers of
distance are crumbling rapidly (35): the internet
allows worldwide information transfer within seconds. The new media allow
a virtual walk through the 'global village' Earth, including cyberspace
cafŽs & chat rooms with international audiences, for which we do not even
have to leave our living room. The "brave new virtual world" seems to make
contact with real people superfluous.

At the movies the boundaries between fact and fiction are dissolving,
too. The crew of Apollo 11 already showed a very revealing reaction when
approaching the lunar surface in 1969: they described it as "2001
type stuff" (!) -- fact measured by fiction? (36)
The creation of Steven Spielberg's dinosaurs in Jurassic Park or of
the twister in the film of the same title are only two examples from the
1990s. The danger of manipulation is evident: voices and images can be
altered and rearranged to form "authentic material" at liberty.

But Kubrick is not singing a swan song for human society here. As
Fritscher (37) points out,

We are evolved beyond industrialization (when we've still
to adjust to it's problems) into technology, and this evolution
even more than the one of the late 19th and early 20th centuries is to
have implications to the human psyche and the human potential far more
reaching than yet realized.

In this context the Louis-seize room receives another symbolical
meaning. It does not only signify the end of the Ancien régime but
also stands for a pre- or proto-industrial era. The second half of the
18th century saw the beginning of the transformation process from a
largely agrarian society to an industrial one, which was to culminate in
the 19th century in another revolutionary achievement: the Industrial
Revolution had a major impact not only on the manufacturing industries but
also on the socio-demographic conditions at that time. Mass poverty began
to shrink, new class systems replaced traditional societal systems. (38) Kubrick implies that the psychological development of
Mankind has not kept pace with technological progress and that mentally,
we are still in a pre- or proto-industrial age. He is making us aware of
the developments in order to prevent us from "falling asleep" like the
characters in 2001 or to "wake us up" through his "prognosis" (the
reversal of the relation of creator and machine), respectively. Bowman's
"breakout" from the pre/protoindustrial Louis-seize room shows that
this is possible.

The most mysterious element of the circle of themes is that of the
artifact, represented by the monolith. It is only "defined" by its
Gestalt (black color and rectangular shape) and by the music that
accompanies its various appearances (Requiem by Gyšrgy Ligeti). On
the simplest, descriptive level it is a black box, a cybernetic
device of which only the in-going and out-coming signals are known. Clarke
describes its shape [Clarke a) 70] as that of a black body, a
physical appearance that absorbs (and emits) electromagnetic radiation to
100% and is regarded as only theoretically possible. As an "actualized
black body" the monolith represents physical perfection. The ratio of its
edges -- 1:4:9, the squares of the first three integers -- the three
dimensions of space [Clarke a) 169] -- also shows geometric perfection.

Much more interesting than its "action functions" -- e.g. medium of
communication [Clarke a) 171-176], intelligence-bestowing/enhancing
device, "cosmic fire alarm" [Clarke b) 74, 108], or Star Gate [Clarke a)
193] -- are its symbolic functions. Geduld describes it-amongst
other things-as a metaphysical image of "the ...impregnable logic of the
universe and the mind" and, analogously, as "a Jungian symbol of
consciousness (intelligence)." [Geduld 68] Thus, the monolith represents
perfect and absolute knowledge, which transcends any trivializing attempt
of verbal definition. From this theory, we may deduce one possible
explanation for its recurring appearance and disappearance: perfect
knowledge (as represented by the monolith) is always present but only
"visible" and "seizable" if consciously sought. Those who do see it are at
least given a faint idea of the Absolute if not an understanding.
Bowman's transformation into the Starchild when seeing the monolith could
be indicative of the idea that at the point of death one is shown perfect
knowledge and becomes aware of the negligible weight of one's own
knowledge. (39)

A religious interpretation is also possible. The monolith can stand for
the Cross of Christianity (cf. the cross formation with the Jupiter moons)
or for the Creator himself (cf. The Creation of Adam), or can
remind of the Kaaba in Mecca, the holy black stone of the Islamic
belief. Clarke names a Buddhist church that worships a black stone [Agel
290], and Kubrick compares the magical alignments in 2001 with "the
strange sensation one has when the alignment of the Sun takes place at
Stonehenge." [Agel 80]

With the ambiguous monolith, Kubrick presents us the mirror of our own
ideology. Everyone can see in the black rectangular slab what they want.
At the same time Kubrick demonstrates that all metaphysical and religious
schools can be brought to one common (universal) denominator: the belief
in a "higher power" that governs us.

Four birthdays are shown in 2001. Man himself emerges in the
African veldt, Floyd congratulates his daughter via picture phone, Poole
receives birthday greetings from his parents, Bowman is reborn as the
Starchild. [see also: Agel 120] (We could add HAL's "birthday" -- the day he
became operational: January 12th, 1992.) If we see these birthdays from a
"linear" point of view, we either arrive at the conclusion that the
evolution of Man has only just begun, or that the "real" birth of Man as
the "Crown of Creation" -- of Nietzsche's Superman? -- is still lying
ahead. To Nelson this is the "embryonic idea" of 2001 [Nelson 139],
for as Kubrick pointed out in the Playboy interview:

If Man really sat back and thought about his impending
termination, and his terrifying insignificance and aloneness in the
cosmos, he would surely go mad, or succumb to a numbing sense of futility.
Why, he might ask himself, should he bother to write a great symphony, or
strive to make a living, or even to love another, when he is no more than
a momentary microbe on a dust mote whirling through the unimaginable
immensity of space? (40)

This deterministic/fatalistic conclusion is, however, only true on the
surface. Within the cosmic scheme our human cognitive world must
appear small and insignificant, as well as a species' lower stage of
evolution must be primitive compared to a higher stage-for: "What is the
ape to Man? A laughing-stock, a thing of shame. And just the same shall
Man be to the Superman: a laughing-stock, a thing of shame." (41) Why should a higher (extraterrestrial/divine...) power
be interested in the fortunes of Man? Kubrick responds with a counter
question: "Why should Man be interested in microbes? " (42) The answer lies in the awareness that micro-
and macrocosm are only relative conceptions. It bears both the
understanding that Man's "grasp" of the world is limited and the challenge
to explore those limits and fill them with meaning. Or, as Kubrick put it
in the same interview:

The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it
is hostile but that it is indifferent; but if we can come to terms with
this indifference and accept the challenges of life within the boundaries
of death -- however mutable Man may be able to make them -- our existence
as a species can have genuine meaning and fulfillment. However vast the
darkness, we must supply our own light. [Agel 353]

The search for the meaning of life is as old as Mankind itself. Many of
the statements Kubrick makes in 2001 can e.g., already be found in
Thoreau's Walden (43) and Thoreau was strongly
influenced by the Eastern philosophies like Hinduism and Buddhism. The
19th century American Transcendentalist put forth theses that very
strongly remind us of the circle of themes of 2001:

"Men have become the tools of their tools" (bones) [Thoreau
35];" "As if the main object in life were to talk fast and not to talk
sensibly" (language) [Thoreau 48]; "Our manners have been corrupted by
communication with the saints (artifact/religion) [Thoreau 69]; "We are
sound asleep nearly HALf of our time. Yet we esteem ourselves wise and
have established order on the surface." [...] "We must learn to reawaken
and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids but by an infinite
expectation of the dawn..." (sleep/(a)wak(en)ing). [Thoreau 279 /
79]

Thoreau understood Man's "relevance" within the cosmic scheme ("This
whole earth which we inhabit is just a point in space" [Thoreau 115]) and
the relativity of micro- and macrocosm ("As I stand over the insect
crawling amid the pine needles on the forest floor, ... I am reminded of
the great Benefactor and Intelligence that stands over me the human
insect" [Thoreau 279]). From this awareness he formulated the challenge to
master life within the given boundaries: "Shall a man go forth and hang
himself because he belongs to the race of the pygmies, and not be the
biggest pygmy that he can? ... However mean your life is, meet with it and
live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. The fault-finder will find
faults even in paradise." [Thoreau 274]

Thoreau also called for self-exploration: "Is not our own interior
white on the chart? ... [Be] a Columbus to whole new continents and worlds
within you, opening new channels, not of trade, but of thought. [Thoreau
270] Direct your eye right inward, and you'll find a thousand regions in
your mind yet undiscovered. Travel them, and be expert in
home-cosmography." [Thoreau 269] His challenge answers the remaining
question of why Bowman's trip to infinity ("Jupiter, and Beyond the
Infinite") ends in Earth orbit. It represents an individual voyage to
himself, which leads him back to his roots. The "center of the
universe" is in one's own head.

2001 as A Timeless Comment on the "Phantastic Voyage" of
Life

With 2001:A Space Odyssey, Kubrick combined a mythological
archetype (The Voyage) with the vision of a near-future in an expanse that
Man is just about to "conquer." He explained his choice of the
Odyssey-theme as follows:

"About the best we've been able to come up with is a space
Odyssey -- comparable in some ways to the Homeric Odyssey," said Mr. K.
"It occurred to us that for the Greeks the vast stretches of the sea must
have had the same sort of mystery and remoteness that space has for our
generation, and that the far-flung islands Homer's wonderful characters
visited were no less remote to them than the planets our spacemen will
soon be landing on are to us. ..." [Agel 25]

Kubrick translates the classical Odyssey into the modern context of
space travel and thus puts an ancient thesis on a literally universal
scale: that life itself is an odyssey, which nevertheless always leads us
back to our roots. The year 2001, as the beginning of a new millennium
(no, I am not going to explain why it is 2001 and not 2000), marks the
start of a new age, a new era. At the same time it suggests to an audience
of the premiere-year 1968 -- witnesses of the beginnings of space travel
-- that the scientific and technological developments depicted could
become reality within their lifetime. Nevertheless we could imagine a
translation of the story into the year 3001 or 4001 for Kubrick gives no
temporal fixation during the film (Hal's birthday, January 12th 1992, is
mentioned but there is no link to the time of action (like "9 years
ago...").

Kubrick has set himself a high goal: "If 2001 has stirred your
subconscious, your mythological yearnings, then it has succeeded." [Agel
60] In order to awaken those "mythological yearnings" he has created a
visually ambiguous, mystical and mysterious piece of art that is
independent of ephemeral societal streams and defies any attempts at an
absolute, final (and thus de-mystifying) interpretation. At the same time
he re-asks archetypal questions (Where do I come from? Where do I go? What
is my place in the Universe?) that can only be answered on a personal
level. As long as people ask themselves these questions, the spell of
2001 will be unbroken.

Here we find the explanation for the fascination of and with traveling.
Every 'breakout' of one's usual environment, every search for new
"impressions" is a search for oneself; every 'frontier experience'
(intellectually, culturally etc.) shows us our own horizon, for only by
comparing with others do we recognize our own identity. "The" Frontier,
the highly idealized border line between 'civilization' and 'wilderness',
which was crucial in the evolution of an American identity, is an American
term. The underlying motif is as old as Mankind itself.

5. cf. T. A. Nelson, Stanley Kubrick, Munich:
Heyne, 1983, p. 189. This is the German publication of T. A. Nelson,
Stanley Kubrick: Inside a Film Artist's Maze, Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1982. Since I could not trace the original English
version of this book, I had to make do with the German edition and to use
my own translation, which is of course a back-translation from English.
Further page references to Nelson (all back-translations from German) will
be made through [Nelson ##].

6. This quotation was taken from a reproduction of the
Playboy interview with Stanley Kubrick (1968) as printed in Jerome
Agel, The Making of Kubrick's 2001, New York: New American Library
1970, p. 328. Further page references to Agel will be made through [Agel
##].

7. Arthur C. Clarke, 2001: A Space Odyssey, London:
Legend 1968. Further page references to the novel will be made through
[Clarke a) ##].

8. Instead of the commonly used term "hotel room," I chose
" Louis-seize room" with regard to the style of the interior and
its symbolic importance, which will be illustrated later on in the
analysis.

9. Clarke goes into detail on this "fire alarm theory"
in The Lost Worlds of 2001, New York: New American Library 1972,
p. 74, 108. Further page references to the Lost Worlds... will be made
through [Clarke b) ##].

11. cf. C. Geduld, Filmguide to "2001: A Space
Odyssey." Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1973. Uterine
symbolism is an ongoing theme in her approach to 2001. Further page
references to her Filmguide... will be made through [Geduld ##].

12. Richard Strauss explained his approach to 'composing'
the work of Nietzsche: "I meant to convey by means of music an idea of the
development of the human race from its origin, through the various phases
of its development, religious and scientific." Quote taken from the inlay
book of the Polydor CD-Soundtrack.

18. Classical Odysseus identified himself on returning
home by "stringing the bow only he could wield" [Clarke b) 239]. In
Lost Worlds...., Clarke describes the decision to let only Bowman
survive: "October 15. Stan has decided to kill off all the crew of
Discovery and leave Bowman only. Drastic, but it seems right. After
all, Odysseus was the sole survivor..." [Clarke b) 38] See also: [Nelson
p. 344].

19. My choice of the personal pronoun 'he' for HAL has
two reasons: 1) HAL is addressed as 'he' throughout the film and 2) out of
"linguistic and cognitive habit": in German, there is a phenomenon called
"linguistic gender," which allows, e.g. a table, a TV set or a computer
(like HAL) to be "male;" a lamp, a pear or handbag to be "female;" and a
young girl to be "neuter" -- a fact which caused Mark Twain to make some
personal jokes about the German language. In short, I am also calling HAL
'he' because I am "cognitively used to it." My interpretation of whether
or not HAL is a "sentient being" -- no doubt an important question --
shall be illustrated later on.

20. Nelson goes into detail on the theory that HAL's
"hubris" comes from "being hurt in his pride." [Nelson 173]

21. Clarke uses this term in the novel. There the
monolith turns into the Star Gate just when Bowman tries to land on it.
Before he "falls" through it, he can give Mission Control one final
message: "The thing's hollow -- it goes on for ever -- and -- oh my God --
it's full of stars !" [Clarke a) 193]

22. This term was coined by MGM's PR department.
According to Clarke it is the most fitting description of Bowman's
"psychedelic passage" through the Star Gate. [Clarke b) 189]

30. M. Michaud, Reaching for the High Frontier - the
American Pro-Space Movement 1972-84, New York: Praeger, 1986, p.
301.

31. For an American Studies seminar I once wrote a paper
on "The Significance of the Frontier Image for the Apollo-Moon Landing
Program during the Kennedy-Johnson-Era of New Frontiers 1961-1969," for
which I have collected a lot of material published by NASA and various
other sources that deal with this theme. Some of the most insightful
titles were: American Astronautical Society (AAS)/E. Burgess (ed.),
Science & Technology Series, vol. 8: Impact of Space Exploration on
Society. Washington: AAS, 1966 // O. Binder, Victory in Space,
New York: Walker & Co., 1962 // R. S. Lewis, The Voyages of Apollo:
The Exploration of the Moon, New York: Quadrangle, 1974 // M. A. G.
Michaud, Reaching for the High Frontier - the American Pro-Space
Movement 1972-84, New York: Praeger, 1986 // NASA History Series/W. D.
Compton, Where No Man has gone before - A History of the Lunar
Exploration Missions, Washington, DC, 1989 // NASA Scientific and
Technical Information Branch/O. W. Nicks, Far Travelers - The
Exploring Machines, Washington, DC, 1985 // E.Sänger, Space
Flight - Countdown for the Future, New York: McGraw Hill Book Company,
1965.

32. M. Michaud, Reaching for the High Frontier - the
American Pro-Space Movement 1972-84, New York: Praeger, 1986, p.
300.

38.LexiROM, (c) 1995, Microsoft Corporation und
Bibliographisches Institut F. F. A. Brockhaus. The age of automation is
often referred to as Second Industrial Revolution, and the
technico-economic developmental phases achieved through miniaturization
are then called the Third Industrial Revolution.

39. cf. Margaret Stackhouse's "Reflections," which
Kubrick called "perhaps the most intelligent that I've read anywhere,
...including all the reviews and articles that have appeared on the film."
See [Agel 201-205]

40. cf. the reprint of the Playboy interview in
[Agel 328-354]; this quotation: [Agel 352].